Epilogue: Uncut Edition
by NeoNails
Summary: Okay, it's not really the uncut edition, but it is my edition on the insight of the characters that were left behind! That's right Max, Matt, Mary, all of 'em! UPDATE: It is COMPLETE! I'm finally DONE!
1. Ch 1: The Sidekick

Disclaimer: Here, I'll spell it out for you :uses her big voice, like she's talking to a couple of toddlers: I. Do. Not. Own. Batman. Beyond. Or. Anything. Else.

Summary: Notice how, in our last chance to see Batman Beyond on TV ever again, there were a few characters… missing? Well, I did. And I'll be giving you some insight on each of their mindsets as they talk to Terry for that last time. Think of it, if you will, as the Uncut Epilogue.

Inspiration: The forum created by Silver Knight entitled, "Beyond the Beyond". It's the only thread in that forum, and there were some interesting point of views, you should definitely read it.

Also, as a warning, this particular piece of fanfiction is _loosely_ (and I'm using this term as lightly as possible) on batE's story, _Me and Terry McG_. It really is a great fic, and I recommend anyone who hasn't read before to read it now (well, hopefully after you've read _my_ story ;-P). Oh, and if you can't find it for some reason (or don't want to bother searching) it's on my favorite stories list and it's author is on my favorite authors list.

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**Chapter 1: The Sidekick**

I suppose I should be grateful. Not that Terry's completely ignored over the years of him being the legendary Dark Knight (or rather, the Tomorrow Knight, if you want to get technical about it), with the exception of coming to me only when he needs help, though that should piss me off to no end, yet it doesn't. No, instead, it's the ever-annoying fact, that over all these years, he's still with _her_.

But that's only fitting, right? Y'know, that the dark-but-devilishly-handsome gets the damsel-in-distress, right? Not the sidekick, of course. Because how disgusting would that be? Robin and Batman getting together, or Tonto going out with that guy, the Lone Ranger from way back when? It's just not right.

Just like how the hero always wins in the end. Or defeats the bad guy. Whatever. I mean, I'm not saying Terry hasn't had a couple of scrapes or close calls- and damn, has he had some close calls- but it still happens. It's like there's a written code: The hero defeats the bad guy, saves the day, and rescues/wins the heart of the damsel in distress.

Now I'm sure a few of you who were listening carefully are wondering, _What about the sidekick?_ Well, don'cha know, that's what I'm wondering, too. In fact, I'm still trying to figure it out.

Let me guess. Now you want me to back up and explain my whole rant, like why do I keep rambling on and on about some a hero and a damsel. Well, seeing as how that description would get a little lengthy, I'll give you the shorthanded version: I'll never be a damsel.

Yeah, you heard me right. And, yeah, she is serious. Because, you see, she will never get the hero because she acts to strong and has to be too strong to ever let herself have something as stupid as finding herself in a situation where she would be "in distress". I know that didn't make any sense, but it's still true. I can't just sit back and let things happen to me, no, I have to help.

But let me let you in on this little nugget of wisdom: Yeah, the few women that do help? They're _never_ considered damsels. Instead, they're called the worst possible thing to be named: a sidekick A sidekick helps the _true_ hero out whenever he happens to get in a jam or needs a fun term I like to call "research". On a few _rare_, and I do mean _very_ rare, occasions, the sidekick will help out in something like setting the hero free from his captives, so he can then save the day. But the sidekick never saves the day alone. Then that wouldn't be a sidekick, now would it?

On the opposite end of the spectrum, there is the hero. In my case, the hero is handsome, true, and strong, but still suffering from the heartbreak years ago from his father's death. And, as the sidekick, it is my duty to comfort him in those few times of need.

But, oh no, don't get your hopes up. Just because he needs you to comfort him, does _not_ mean he likes you in anything more than a platonic sense. Believe me, I have worked my heart up to only have it come crashing down thanks to thinking _those_ lovely thoughts, which are usually followed by some fun fantasies. But fantasies they will forever remain.

But contrary to what you may think, being a sidekick isn't _so_ bad. Though I'll never get Terry, I'm still the first person he come to when trouble arises. It doesn't happen very often, thanks to a certain damsel I prefer not to mention who loves to vie for his attention, but, when it comes down to it, who was the first person he admitted his bad case of heroism to?

Certainly not the damsel. No, she couldn't find out till he _directly_ told her. However, _I'm_ the one who not only figured out his identity without anyone else's- or rather, no _living_ beings- help. Sure, he refused to admit it at first, but, when he did, I still was the first to know. And, in my book, anyway, that counts for a lot. Sure, I'll always be taking second place to Dana, but hey, I'm also taking first when it comes to trust.

I'm a- what do you call it? Oh, yeah.

A confidante.

_Brrring_.

"Hello?"

"Hey. Max, it's me. Listen, is this a secure line? 'Cause I've got some crazy stuff to tell you…"

See?

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Okay, so it was painfully short and probably not very coherent, but it's the thought that counts, right? 'Sides, I like it, though this one chapter isn't very Dana-friendly. But even the few Dana-lovers I'm sure we must still have milling around have to agree with me that, after all these years, Max wouldn't be just a tiniest bit annoyed with how things turned out for her and Terry and the rest? Come on. You know I'm right. ;-P

Next Uncut character? Why, no one else but the lil' bro.


	2. Ch 2: The Doppelganger

There's not much to say, really. This is simply chapter 2 of Epilogue: Uncut. I hope you like it!

Also, as a warning, there's more cursing in this. Well, what do you expect? It's the mind of a 25-year-old who was stuck with the perfect big bro who just so happened to skip out on him one-too-many times.

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**Chapter 2: The Doppelganger**

I hate, that, don't you? When you're walking with you twip of an older brother, and some other twip walks up to you, going on and on about how much we look so much alike, we could be, like, brothers. It's really this whole big pile of shit.

I hate how everybody thinks that we look exactly alike. We don't. Maybe when I was a kid, I guess we _sorta_ looked similar, but, c'mon, I'm freakin' 25 years old now! And my brother is almost _34_! There's no longer any similarities!

And we don't even have similar mindsets. He barely passed high school, and I managed achieve salutatorian in my entire class. Sure, it's number 2, but that's sure as hell better than what Terry pulled off.

And he hasn't even gotten married yet! Dude, even _I_ have a fiancé! True, he's still dating Dana- but, dude, she's not gonna wait around forever! Either take her or leave her… Otherwise, he won't be the one to make the decision, she will. And the answer? Here's a hint: it sure as hell won't be the former.

What about Max? She's had a crush on him since they were, like, my age! But does he notice? Nope. He's too wrapped up in that idiotic excuse for a job.

I know some people might think, 'But, Matt, didn't you practically worship Batman a few years ago?' Well, you _are_ right, but not anymore. I used to like the Bat… That is, until I found out what he did to my family…

Or, rather, should I say, my mother, brother, and adopted father? Yeah, that's right, old man. I figured out your secret. Me and Terry? We don't just look exactly alike because we're brothers, no, we look alike because we both have _him_ in us.

Shoulda known that old Bat-crony would try _something_ to keep that stupid "mantle" alive forever. I thought he would do something like that Ghul psycho. Y'know, make a serum so he stays alive forever, or something equally ridiculous like that. I'd have never guessed he'd try something so… diabolical out.

I mean, it's not like it's bad enough my dad died even before I had the chance to know him, nope, but the fact that not only is my _real_ dad alive, but I never even _thought_ to think of him as a _grand_father, let alone… y'know, a dad.

Especially considering not only is he a dad, but he's _my_ dad! Like Terry and I weren't fucked up enough, nope, this idiot has to make it worse!

Terry doesn't know that I know. He shouldn't, after all. My own fiancé doesn't know. And if Kate doesn't know, no one will. Ever.

But I bet you're thinking now, 'How could this kid have figured it out? Even if he is, y'know, the Great Detective's "son"?' Well, it's pretty simple. A few years back, in college, I started noticing how not only did Terry and I not look like my dad (or, really, my mom, 'cept I have her brown eyes) and how Terry sorta acts like the jerk he works for. When I was a kid, I had noticed, even then, but blew it off as they worked too much together.

Then I took Advanced Biology. My dad and I had almost _no_ matching epithelials, and the same with Terry. Then that flashing red light of a "D'uh" began to rear its ugly head. Terry had the same eyes and disposition as Wayne, and I had the hair… Well, I added it all up. Bruce Wayne was mine and Terry's… father. I still can't think about it without gagging. I mean, I hate the dude as it is, how am I supposed to deal with him now that I know the cold, hard, _ugly_ truth?

Well, honestly, so far, all I've done is avoid him. Seriously. Whenever I can, I get as far away from Daddy Deathbed as soon as possible. I know Wayne knows. I can see it in his eyes. He doesn't want me to tell Terry, but, at this point, I know if he doesn't tell my brother soon, I'll do the deed for him…

Then, to my surprise, I find out not only has my big bro figured it out on his own, but he's just as pissed as Wayne as I was. I mean, am. I still hate the guy, don't get me wrong, but now that I've heard the facts, well, I'm not sure I can entirely blame him. I mean, Batman _is_ important, but, c'mon, is he really as important as to ruin another family all over again?

Just don't tell Terry. Dude, if he found out I knew before him, he might just have that coronary I always used to joke about before he's even hit the mid-thirties…

Shit!

"Matt, we need to talk…"

Dude, I don't care what those pompous-ass villains say, my bro is _scary_ when he sneaks up on you through the window. Freak.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"It's about… It's about dad…"

Aw, dammit. Well, Kate, babe, as you say, looks like it's time to face the music…

"I know, Ter. I know."

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Y'know, for what it's worth, I think I liked speaking through Matt's point of view than Max's. Not that it _wasn't_ totally cool to vent about hero/damsel stereotypes, but this was my chance to talk about how it sucks when you're lied to and can't tell your brother or sister about it for fear of them getting hurt. Plus, I just wanted to have fun talking like the opposite sex. Thank God I have two great brothers to help that one out, no? Hey, this is me. Considering when and how long it took for me to write this, I didn't _totally_ suck, right? ;-P

Next up: Mommy dearest. I should have some fun with this one. 


	3. Ch 3: The Worrier

Ch. 3! w00t! I am on a roll::looks down: Whoops, it's a bagel. ;-P

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**Chapter 3: The Worrier**

Terry says I worry too much. Matt usually scoffs at that, and Kaitlyn just shakes her head at the two of them. I'll miss them so much.

They never know why I worry. They think that I'm oblivious to it all, just because I'm their mother. I'm not. I know about Terry's job, and I know why Matt resents Mr. Wayne so much. I do sometimes worry that Terry will never ask Dana to marry him, and then I'll never see my rightful grandchild. Of course, at that moment, I have to scold myself for thinking such selfish thoughts.

Besides, I know I'll be able to see Kaitlyn and Matt's child, I know it. At least, I hope I will. But Matt really shouldn't hate the poor man so much. He should just embrace it, like I did.

Matt isn't me, I think. Matt is both a combination of his father and I. Well, that and the teachings of my late husband, Warren.

Yes, that's right. I'm not as blind as I look. I know of Terry and Matt's blood father, yet I still worry that they will not recognize it for what it is. Just because Warren may not be their 'real' father, for lack of a better term, does not mean they should forget about Warren and replace him for Mr. Wayne.

Matt will have a harder time dealing with this than Terry will, I know. Terry was almost completely raised by Warren, thanks to our separation. It wasn't that I didn't love Terry, I just couldn't deal with him, running around with that gang, and that Charles Bigalow…

Calm down, Mary. You'll scare the kids again. And it's bad enough _I_ worry, they don't need to worry any more than they already do…

There's that word again. Worry. It has such a negative connotation. I should use another word instead. Fret? No, I'm 55, not _75_. Bothered? No, it sounds like I don't care enough. I know! Concerned! Yes, concerned is the perfect word.

I do worry- ah, am concerned- about time. And the truth. Both seem to be catching up to me at rapid speed, and I don't know if I'll be able to handle either. It really isn't fair. A mother, at my age, with sons such as I do, shouldn't have to deal, let alone be concerned with, these such things. But I suppose it would be selfish of me to think of something as "not fair". I taught my children better than that, and I should act better than that.

Truth is worse than time, in my opinion. With time you can occasionally cheat it, maybe by staying fit, eating the right things, and, in a few cases, having surgery. With the truth it's better to waste less time, and get rid of it quickly.

I remember, when Matt was, oh, I don't know, 11 or so, he and I were talking about the truth for some odd reason, and he told me that if something bad is going to happen that you have to tell people, you should tell it quick, like when you rip off a band-aid. At the time, I thought it was a cute comment for him to make. Now, I know better.

I'm afraid this truth has already been revealed to someone. Two someones, to be exact. It's horrible, I can't tell my own sons, and yet, two of Terry's old friends already know. Well, Max doesn't really know, but I do know she suspects. As for the other one, I'm too afraid to even think of her name, for fear Terry might have another thing to, ahem, be concerned over.

The only thing I can do is pray and wish. And, of course, worry.

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This is my shortest one yet, but the most dramatic as far as I'll go. I hope you liked what I have so far and what I'll have soon.

Chapter 4: Melanie. 10 to 1 she'll have the most issues. ;-P


	4. Ch 4: The HeadCase

Here is Ch. 4, Melanie. Oh, and I have reviewers!

fireinu: Thank you:D

SliverKnight: Thanks for the constructive criticism, I need it from time to time. But first things first: I do agree Dana improved in those 15 or so seconds, but, at the same time, I think Max would _maybe_ just become a teensy bit annoyed if Dana found out and she was put on the backburner. As for the Max-Terry/Dana one-sided triangle, well, I just thought that if Max would fall for anyone, it would probably be Terry, whether or not he'd get with her. What I think about Matt is, over time, he got used to Terry working all the time with Bruce, but when he found out Bruce was his father, and all those feelings of distrust and anger came flooding back. Finally, Mary. I liked Mary the best, truthfully. She was the best because I could really get _into_ her character. But as for how she found out, well, that will be revealed soon, my friend, soon. ;-P

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**Chapter 4: The Head-Case**

I can still hear her, sometimes. _"The only way to live, darling, is the **right** way. And, as you very well know, the only **right** way to be is to be rich."_

Even now, as I would walk to my shabby, one-room apartment, or as I would leave my backbreaking job, I _still_ hear her voice, her comments, _their_ comments. I hear their stuck-up laughter ringing in my ears. I see the faces that look so much like theirs, passing them in the street. It's crazy, but I don't think I'll ever fully get my family out o my head.

I suppose it's fitting, though. That a screwed-up head-case will take care of and watch out for a bunch of soon-to-be screwed-up head-cases. Well, rather, I should be _preventing_ these kids to be screwed-up head-cases. But really, it never happens. By the time anyone contacts us, it's already too late.

But that's the point of social workers. We don't help out until somebody calls us or the kids are in foster care and we need to visit the adopted parents. I always feel much more useful- and guilty- when see the foster kids as opposed to their supposed family. You see, in my line of work, after the required 2 visits with the parents and the kids, it is only required to see the parents. I don't care much for the foster parents, as few and far between actually want the kids to take care of them. Most of them just want them for the money.

I started working here about a year ago, and I have already prevented many foster kids from staying in homes where the torture they had left behind would only get worse. Of course, this sets a bad example to the other social workers, or at least the ones who have seen so many horrible things they no longer care and are just in it for the paycheck. As whatever God there is as my witness, I will never be like them. _Never_.

Lately, I've started thinking about, well, _him_. No, not my brother or father, but… Terry. Jesus, I can't even think his name without wanting to whisper it. I guess that's just part of the fantasy. I'll never permanently stop thinking about him, even when I think it's over.

Like two months ago. I was doing good, going to work, walking my dog, I've even managed to go on a few dates since then. Then my computer at work crashed. I thought nothing of it, and carried it down (it's one of those cheap, portable laptops) to the IT room, where most of our resident hackers and computer geniuses alike hung out. I guess everyone must've gotten a memo to crash their computers, because half the people I worked with were down there, which left me with only one genius. To my surprise, it was a dark-skinned girl. I know this was horribly sexist of me to think, but I had never once thought a girl could be a hacker.

More surprising still, she had bright carnation pink hair. And she seemed to be fancying herself at glowering towards some photo that happened to be on her desk. Nonetheless, I needed my computer fixed, so I asked her politely if she could help me.

I couldn't help but notice that, with the pink hair and the chocolate skin in a sea of blondes and brunettes, most with pasty pale skin, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Yet, in her own way, she was sort of pretty. Not in the gorgeous, drop-dead model look my mother had always strived to achieve, then have to keep up as she grew older and older still, but in a simple, girl-next-door way. The type of girl I'd expect Terry to like.

At that moment, I was in shock. Never once had I thought about Terry until that day. Of course, she was no longer paying attention, but instead tapping intently on my keyboard. Shaking off my amazement and horror, I casually walked around her desk to see what she was doing to my poor, over-used, computer, only to find another shocker.

There, on her desk, was a photo of a beautiful couple and I could only guess her. The couple both were dark haired and pale-skinned, but that was where the similarities ended. She was thin and petite, in a cute blue dress that was a little short, but suited her nonetheless. He was tall, broad-shouldered and handsome, with bright blue eyes. _Wait a second-_

It was Terry! This girl- the one in the photo as well as the one I stood next to- knew Terry! It was impossible. I had always thought Terry would do something better than stay in Gotham, like live in Metropolis and save lives as a doctor. Or maybe visit Opal City and become a cop. But never had I thought he would possibly stay _here,_ of all places.

Shakily, I pulled a chair up to where she sat and fell into it. She was too busy looking over bunches of code gibberish that I would have found useless to notice me. I decided to waste time staring at that mid-boggling photograph and wondering what the hell just happened. It took me a minute or two, but I finally got a piece of this insane puzzle to properly fit. _So, **this** was what she had been glaring at. But why? I mean, she looks happy there. Like his and that pretty girl's best friend. Proud of their relationship and just happy to see them together. What happened?_

My trance was broken as she got up, grumbling something about coffee, stupid computers, and damned heroes. Heroes? Did I walk to the 3rd dimension when I hadn't been paying attention or something? And here I thought _I_ was a head-case.

Yet even as she walked back, clutching the paper cup of coffee, I still couldn't help myself. "So, did you used to date him?"

Her eyes turned to saucers, and she almost tripped over her chair, and nearly spilled the coffee she just walked over to get all over herself. I took the coffee from her and she slunk back in the chair. Deciding to face my fears, I nodded to her photo on the desk. "I saw you glaring at it. Sorry if I was prying," I added, slightly fearful.

She stared at that photo again, and, suddenly, I had a feeling that I wasn't the only one McGinnis hurt over the years.

Eventually, she looked back at me speaking for the first time, "Actually, you would be prying." She smirked, pausing, only to add, "But, I don't mind that much. It's not like you could possibly know either one of them, so I'll tell you. Oh, and by the way, I'm Max."

I smiled back, and introduced myself as Mel, a nickname I had picked up after I met a guy, who only slept with me so he could call The Gotham Enquirer to tell them he slept with the villainess, Ten. Yeah, _that_ wasn't so fun to see, 6:00 at night, in line at the grocery store.

She told me her story, how the two, whom she introduced as Terry and Dana, though she didn't know I had already met the former in person, were boyfriend and girlfriend for going on _17_ years, and also just-so-happened to be her best friends.

However, Terry (she kept referring to him as "my best friend" or "Ter") had a very hard job and worked crazy hours, something which Dana hadn't liked much (she referred to her as "his girlfriend" and sometimes just pronouns, like "she" or "her", never calling her by her actual name), so their relationship was often rocky and she was usually put in the middle because of it. Max supposedly knew why Terry worked these hours (surely this had been the reason why he had been late that one night), something I guess Dana hadn't known. I hadn't pressed the issue, though it still bothers me even now. Instead, I chose to listen.

And boy, did I get an earful.

As she talked and poured out all those feelings she had to have been bottling up for at least months, if not years, and those puzzle pieces that hadn't been fitting for me before now were beginning to come together and fit perfectly. Though she seemed reluctant admit it, she was in love (or at least had a major crush on) Terry. I didn't blame her. Terry was smart and resourceful, and, as clearly evident in that photograph on her desk, was still quite the looker. I just… well, I kind of felt bad for the pretty girl, Dana, in the picture. It wasn't her fault all this shit had happened.

I could tell, deep down, Max felt bad for Dana, too. Maybe even horribly guilty. Under that angry, self-serving, façade, Max was just a girl, in love with her one best friend, and feeling immensely guilty about it for her other best friend. It really was unfortunate, the whole thing.

So I made her deal. Since it was a Thursday and we would get off work (well, if you were done with your paperwork and had visited whatever families that needed visiting) in an hour, that she and I would out go out for coffee Friday at 7:00 to talk more in-depth about her problems, and what we would do about them.

And you know what? Now, two or so months later, we're still going out every Friday night, 7:00 sharp, for coffee and to rant whatever problems and/or insecurities we may be faced with.

Huh. I just realized something. I have, for the first time in _years_,…

A friend.

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My longest one yet! I feel so proud. As a forewarning, this is the beginning of what I shall call the "Part 2" of the fanfiction. From here on, these characters will be shown and/or used to help tie and reinforce the relationships, broken and whole, to the Bat. This includes, Terry, Matt, Mary, and (possibly) Dana. I'm not sure about that last one, because if I choose to write anything about her, I'll need I new character because then she won't mesh with the ones I've already chosen.

Ha. As I was typing this, my little brother came up behind me and pointed something out. These last 4 chapters have all been written in the point of views of people whose names all start with 'M'. Little twerp. ;-P

Next chapter (NOT another 'M'): Chelsea, the known trendsetter. But is she still setting the latest fashions or doing something far more worthwhile?

Have a good day, everyone, and good night!


	5. Ch 5: The Enemy

Hey. Yup, I'm back- with a vengeance. ;-) And now, a word to my loyal review-ers:

Kyoko Kasshu Minamino: Thanks for the support! I figured since the BB account is teaming over with Mary Sues, I might as well throw my two cents in- for Max, that is! ;-P

Hmm… I guess I'm not as popular as I'd thought… Oh well! XD

And I know I said before I was going to write about Chelsea, but I've changed my mind since. Don't worry, you'll still get to hear from the great Miss Cunningham, but not before I tie one more loose end…

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**Chapter 5: The Enemy**

Looking back on it all, I really don't blame him. After seeing all these kids pass through my doors, whether they liked it or not, I've come to one mind-blowing conclusion: I really _was_ the prick McGinnis made me out to be. To this day, I'm still surprised he never just beat the shit out of me for all the shitty things I've done.

I guess that only proves how much better McGinnis was in comparison to me. I mean, don't get me wrong. I've wised up since then; 12 years of teaching smart-asses like myself has taught me that much. But never, in a million years, did I ever think _McGinnis_ of all people was actually better than me.

And I probably would've continued on this track, had I not had a surprising visit from said former enemy's little bro, Matt. Y'know, the one that looks like the spittin' image of McG- Terry?

Well, anyway, I suppose M-_Terry_ had done something to piss the kid off, 'cuz what happens? He strolls through my door, at 2 o'clock, right after my last class for the day, looking angrier than ever.

To tell the truth, I had never really known Matt before this incident. All I knew was that he was Terry's younger brother and probably just as much of a pain in the ass as Terry was.

"You're the guy who used to fight with my brother all the time, right," It wasn't actually a question, but more along the lines of an accusation. At the time, it annoyed me a little, having the brother of a former punk-turned-saint accusing me of something.

I remember standing up, to show my full height of 6'3. That was typically how I'd get my more rowdier students to pay attention, as most of 'em hadn't had a proper growth spurt yet, that and a glare. It didn't really work out according to plan, because, after standing up, I found the kid was roughly my height, maybe a little shorter. Nonetheless, I wasn't particularly discouraged. I _was_ wrestling coach, for God's sake.

"Yeah, whaddaya wanna know 'bout it?" I said, crossing my arms over my chest. The kid held my glare fast, but ended up breaking it in the end in order to pull up a chair to the front of my desk.

"What I wanna know is…" He seemed to be debating something before finally finishing, "Why'd ya hate my brother so much?"

Don't get me wrong. The question wasn't as wimpy as it sounded. He was still angry then, and the way he said it, and now, looking back at it, I think he was looking for a justification to be angry.

I was stumped, for a second. Why did I used to hate McGinnis so much? I hadn't been thinking of him at all within the past 17 years or so since graduating Hill High, so it was a minute or two before I'd finally responded.

"McGinnis and I never liked each other." It was a weak response, but it was the only thing I could think up on short notice. "Why?"

Now it was his turn to think. "We just had a disagreement, is all." He snapped back gruffly. "I just wanted to see… I wanted to see if he was just as much of a pain in the ass to you as he is to me."

Back in high school I would've jumped up to agree wholeheartedly that Terry was a pain in the ass, but since I was older, and, let's face it, a hell of a lot smarter, I knew better than to agree.

Because, really, when had Terry ever initiated those fights we'd had? Way back when we were wrestling, he had only thrown the first punch because I pushed him to do so.

I figured this out shortly after his comment. I had might as well be honest with him, even if I knew almost nothing "Kid, I don't know you, but I'll tell you this much: whatever your brother did, short of a murder, it ain't half as bad as the shit I pulled on him back in high school."

He stared at me, incredulous. The kid must've been expecting me to badmouth his brother, which might've explained the reason why he immediately jumped up, exclaiming, "Whaddaya mean! He was never there- and now that he is, and look what happens!"

I didn't bother asking what had happened- the kid was too hyped up to ever have given me a straight answer. Instead, I got to the point. "You're his brother. End of story. Right now, you're pissed. Most likely, it's pretty understandable, and I'm sorry he's screwed you over. But face facts: he is your only brother. You can't afford to alienate your own, blood, believe me, I know."

I then went on to explain something I had mentioned only to my wife, Bobbi. Senior year of college I was about to graduate with a masters in teaching, and I could honestly say my father was probably the least pleased of everyone I knew to find out my new career. To cut to the chase, I spoken to him since. And it sucks, knowing that you have a 7-month-pregnant wife and no grandfather to help teach him how to play ball.

McGinnis's brother actually listened to my short story. He hadn't seem much more pleased, but at least he didn't look like he wanted to murder someone. Luckily, it did manage to calm him down enough to explain to me some of the details. There had been some kind of fight involving their dad- hadn't he died way back in high school?- and now Matt was refusing to talk to McGinnis. I didn't ask for further details, and he offer them.

He left shortly after, but not before thanking me for listening to him rant and offering "a semblance of sanity". I wasn't sure what to make of that- Jesus, _Max_ didn't speak like that- so I just let him go. Later, when I was through relaying this to my wife, she smacked for not being more hospitable.

Women.

Besides, what was I supposed to do? After all, he _was_ a McGinnis.

$4$

Alright, I'll admit it: this was _not_ one of my most sterling of chapters. It's more than a little messy, and I really couldn't get into the character like I had with Matt and Mary, and even Melanie. If there's someone out there reading this who'd like to offer to beta it, I'd be really grateful. This will be one of the few times that I will ask you please, please, PLEASE give some constructive criticism. Not "i reely liked it" or "it sux". If you hated it tell me WHY. If you liked it pick out specific parts. I'm not asking you to flame me, I do like _some_ courtesy every so often, I'm just asking for a little bit of help. :-)

Also, I'm planning this next chapter to be the last of the series. I know, it's so sad. :-( But it's been a fun ride, and I hope you'll enjoy listening to Chelsea as our final Uncut character.


	6. Ch 6: The Aide

As my last chapter, I'd like to thank my reviewers and anyone who took the time to read my ramblings. I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing this. But before I start, I have a response:

Knottaclue: Thanks for reviewing, and being so courteous about it! ;-) I know, I kind of surprised myself, giving _Nelson_ of all people the position of teacher. But then, I thought, who better? I figure he could be a P.E. teacher, but if you really want to stretch the limits, you could could say he teaches History. ;-P

Now, on to the show!

$4$

**Chapter 6: The Aide**

I never asked to be the human equivalent of the Grim Reaper. I also never asked to be the human equivalent of God. But people consider me to be anyway. Every day, from morning to well into the next morning, I watch the deaths, the injuries, and, yes, the births, and I can honestly say they all affect me. Each in their unique and different way.

I'll tell you the truth: I don't remember all of the people I've seen in these 8 years or so, in specifics or anything like that, but I do know their stories have in some ways affected me. Like when a 15-year-old had come in with her parents and sibling, announcing that not only was she pregnant but she was also keeping the baby. I remembered seeing that surge of defiance in her voice, as well as courage, with just a glint of fear mixed in.

It reminded me of my father's response to my defiance. He shipped me off to that… place. But I don't like talking about it anymore. Besides, as I was saying, I remember all of my past patients, whether little flashbacks or entire pieces of events.

Of course, there is one event I don't think I'll be able to so easily forget. Terry McGinnis. He was in my graduating class. He was handsome, had a great girlfriend (who happened to be a close friend of mine back then- I had heard through the grapevine that he and Dana are still together, even now), a super-smart best friend (Max- and damn, was that girl funny), and to top it all off, he was everybody's best friend. You know the type. The guy no one could ever _really_ hate because he was just so nice to you. I mean, he did go to juvie, I think, but he was still liked by everybody.

Well, maybe, _Nelson_ hated him, but that's just one person.

And, okay, maybe Willie Watt hates him. But that was after he went crazy and tried to kill us all. Before, when he was just geeky, nice, sweet, Willie, he and Terry were pretty close friends. Or at least, that's what Max also ways told me.

But I can't really say I thought much of him after graduating Hell High- pardon me, _Hill_ High- until one 'fateful' day when his mother came in, sick.

It's hard telling patients bad news, and even worse when you already know them. This bad news… well, it doesn't get any worse. As you might know, a cure was found for the malignancy known as cancer less than a decade ago. A new alternative to the harmful radiation that was just as likely to cure the cancer as it was to cause it. The downside was this new alternative, while less deadly, it was extremely expensive, to both the hospital and the patient. In these nine or ten years, only a handful have been installed here in the U.S., and even less in Europe.

The Gotham City Hospital (the one I work in) is planning on installing one to benefit everyone in New Jersey, including most of the people in the tri-state area. But it won't be started on for another year, and at least five more before it's complete. The nearest clinic is in Illinois.

Mary McGinnis had cancer. Breast cancer, to be specific. By the time she came in, there was no chance she would last six years. I wasn't even sure if she would through _this_ year. Of course, as a doctor, I was obligated to tell her next of kin about the diagnosis. She wouldn't allow me to. Ms. McGinnis was absolutely obstinate against telling either of her sons about her prognosis.

For the first time, I thought about something other than my patients or my boyfriend. I am- _was_ engaged- at the time, it was the only thing on my mind, with the exception of my patients various stages of health.

But this… I stepped away from myself and my patients and my diagnoses. Here was this woman, a divorcé who lost her ex-husband years ago, still continued to put her two full-grown sons ahead of herself, and absolutely _refused_ to let them know she was sick.

I explained to her the risks, and the damage this could cause to her family, and she patiently explained to me what those same risks did to her mother and what damaged it caused to her family when they knew ahead of time.

"Besides", she continued on in a way I could only describe as stubbornly determined, "Terry and Matt have enough on their plate. They don't need to worry about this old woman's health, too."

I was speechless. Never, in my years at GCH, had I ever met a patient who _didn't_ want her family to know about something as earth-shattering as cancer. Maybe not wanting to tell their family they had contracted the latest HIV-strain, but never cancer.

Nonetheless, she made me swear to not say a word to anyone, _especially_ her sons. She reminded me that she knew people, mainly because of Terry's continued work with Bruce Wayne, and she wouldn't be afraid to sue me if I broke doctor-patient confidentiality.

I assured her I wouldn't, and left her with one of the hospital's best radiologists.

I remember trying valiantly to forget what I heard, and continue making my rounds at the hospital. About two and a half hours later, I had almost gotten back into my normal regimen of finishing up my paperwork, when a gruff voice interrupted me.

"I need blood-work done," he ordered. Sadly, this had not been the first time someone had tried to order me around like that. I had learned not to take that bull and recalled snapping, "I have paperwork to do. Even then, I'm not a nurse. I don't take walk-ins."

"Chelsea,"

My head snapped up. _No one_ called me _Chelsea_. My boyfriend hardly ever called me that, usually opting for his nickname, Marilyn. Something about some blonde bombshell way back before there was even color TV.

As I stared at the man, memories flooded back. Terry had grown up a lot since we graduated. I think he grew at least half a foot taller. I don't think I would have recognized him, if it wasn't for the eyes. His blue eyes. Those same eyes that told me when my father sent me to that brain-washing psycho, that everything would be alright. That he'd save me from those freaks, no matter what.

"I need you to run these blood samples," he repeated, less commanding then before. But I wasn't really listening. The memories were flooding back of that night. That night, that horrible night. Terry was caught and we were punished. I still had occasional nightmares. If he and the local authorities hadn't stopped that man, I don't know where I'd be.

"Chelsea?"

I owed him. It was the least I could do. I took the lumpy manila folder, asking, "What do you want me to run it against?" I owed him. It was only right to return the favor.

"There are two blood samples in that folder. See if they're related paternally."

He handed me his phone number, to tell him results, and I nodded. By this time, my body was going on autopilot, while my mind was running free. What about his mother? He needed to know, despite the warnings Mary McGinnis gave me.

I ran the blood-work, not paying any attention to what was going on around me. The results found, I called Terry. He picked up on the first ring.

"What is it?" he asked, impatient.

What could I say? What could I do?

"Positive."

He hung up.

$4$

A/N: A tad angsty-er than I'd intended, but, all around, a pretty good ending to this insane storyline. Sorry I took so freakin' long, I've been working on this chapter on and off for the past… Oh, _5_ months or so. Freaky how time goes by so fast. But I was determined to finish this tonight, if only to move on to my other stories that are waiting. I have not deserted _Good Girl Gone Bad_, I swear! I'm working on it!

I liked where I took this. I think I managed to tie up what loose ends were left in _Epilogue_, including how Terry was so positive Bruce was his 'father'. Okay, granted, they mentioned something about Bruce needing a transfusion or whatever, and Terry being his exact match, and what were the chances of that? But still. Terry was a detective, and he'd need absolute proof to know. Enter Dr. Cunningham.

'Least, that's how I see it. ;)


End file.
